


While Hunter Is Away

by GypsySisters



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Masterbation, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tenderness, Vaginal Fingering, cum, masterbating, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 18:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9838184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsySisters/pseuds/GypsySisters
Summary: OA and Homer take advantage of some unexpected privacy for a moment of pleasure.





	

Deep in the wilderness, in the basement of Hap’s home, the four captives slept. They hadn’t seen the Angel Hunter for days. They assumed he was traveling, and with his absence there came a sort of reprieve. They were more at ease. They slept more soundly. And, perhaps, that is why Scott and Rachel did not wake up when the cage controls started to go awry.

The lights flickered, waking Homer instinctively. He looked around, glassy eyed and disoriented until he was plummeted into darkness. Then he heard it, the release of gas hissing into Rachel’s cell. Homer scrambled to the wall to block the vent.

“Homer?” OA’s voice punctured the darkness, a lilt of worry in her tone.

When Hap was away travelling, he could monitor them, could intervene and maintain the conditions of the cages by remote access; but the four captives had learned that, when the system malfunctioned like this, the only way for Hap to regain access to the network was to return and perform a manual reboot.

“Are you ok?” Prairie asked, sensing with her ears what she could not see.

“I’m fine,” Homer panted, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Rachel and Scott never even got up, though.” The emergency power kicked in and a dull indigo light pulsated into the cavern, but Hap’s computers remained inert.

Homer and Prairie tried to instruct their cellmates to get up, to test if they were awake, They were unresponsive, but still breathing. They would be fine.

Homer said, “I wonder how long we have until Hap returns this time.”

“If we’re lucky, maybe never.” She plopped down on her belly and sighed.

Homer laughed. He hated being under Hap’s thumb, but there was something about the way Hap affected OA in particular that made him want to comfort her, made him want to wrap his arms around her and reassure her that everything would be alright.

He lay down on his bed and drew near to her. “I wish I could touch you.”

She turned on her side to face him. “I know. Me too.”

He reach out, and she reached out to join him. Then, to scratch an itch, she let her hand wander to her face and ran her thumb over her lips.

Homer sighed, watching her. She was incredible. Soft and hard and soft again. An impossible mystery, impossible yet oh so present. “What I wouldn't give to touch your lips.”

Half sinister, half joking, she replied, “Would you die for it?”

Without hesitation, he replied, “I’ve already died for a lot less.”

The feeling behind his words sobered her. He was giving her that look--his yearning look--but mingled in with the softness was a kind of hunger. She didn't know what to say, how to react.

She touched her lips lightly with her fingertips, and her eyebrows fluttered together in question, “How would you touch me?”

Homer reacted viscerally to the question and fidgeted to pass through the wave of excitement that ran down his spine to the tips of his toes. He hummed at her, gruff and sly. Then he spoke, low and heavy, the words tumbling past his inviting lips. “Close your eyes, Prayer.”

She sighed. It had been so long since she'd heard him call her that. His gaze was intent...he probably hadn't even realized he'd let it slip. “Ok,” she replied, and acquiesced. 

“First, I would brush my hand against your cheek.”

At his words, she brushed her hand against her own cheek.

“Then I would draw you to me, one hand hooked behind your elbow, until I could feel the pressure of your body against mine.”

“Our foreheads. I would bend mine forward to meet yours.”

“Yes. I would, too. I'd feel your head against mine, brush my hand back and hold your neck, tangling my fingers in your hair.”

She ran one hand up behind her neck and held herself there.

“Is this ok?” Homer asked.

Prairie nodded. Yes. Yes, absolutely. 

“My lips would never leave your skin. I would kiss your cheeks, brush my kisses down your neck, slowly, following the your pulse.” She sighed, and he reached out to touch the glass. “Then I would find your lips. First I would kiss you lightly, little kisses, my lips against yours, until the kisses were not so soft anymore. Until I kissed you hard and hot, again and again, as if kissing were breathing.”

OA was breathing heavily. She pressed her hand against her chest and ran it down her body, down the length of her belly.

Homer, disbelieving what they were doing, asked in a whisper, “Do you want me to join you?”

She opened her eyes then and looked at him, heavy with desire. “Yes. Homer. Yes. Please.”

It was then that she knelt up on her bed before him. As her eyes adjusted to the indigo glow, she hitched her skirt up. Her downy sweater fell down around her frame like a soft cloud.

He joined her in kneeling, fingers dancing in rhythm, chin down, gazing sheepishly up at her. “I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with,” Homer replied, eyebrows etched forward in a micro expression of concern.

In response, she brought her hand to her chest and unbuttoned her dress, releasing it to fall down around her thighs. Her alabaster skin was soft and smooth, catching what little light remained as if she were aglow. Without hesitation, she unhooked her bra and waited for him, her pale breasts bouncing against her chest.“Now it’s your turn.”

He pulled off his shirt and threw it at the floor. She had seen his bare torso before, but never truly allowed her gaze to linger, to appreciate the form and substance of his body. Instinctively, she reached up and cupped her breast, running her fingers over her skin, teasing her nipple into a pert bud.

He leaned forward, watching her, hands pressed high against the glass. His breath was hot and unsteady. His pants were growing increasingly uncomfortable.

She turned away, legs slung over the far side of the bed, then pulled off her underwear. When she stood, her back to him, the smooth arch of her skin curved and swayed down the valleys of her frame.

And then she twisted. Chin on her shoulder, biting her lip, one plump breast and the entire view of her gorgeous ass, and he nearly lost it. He was going to explode.

“Is it...am I…” she blushed, suddenly very nervous. 

“Oh...Prayer…” he moaned. “You are more beautiful than I could have dreamed.”

At that she laughed and turned around completely, waiting. He rushed off the bed and shimmied out of his pants, he was hard and ready. 

As they knelt back up on the bed, he looked her over, every inch of her tender and exquisite frame. Her hands travelled down to her thighs as he cupped his balls, then held his penis. She watched as he pumped once, twice, and let her fingers dip up and slide along the folds of her desire.

“Homer....”

“I...I want to see you...can I see you, OA?”

She shifted, laying on her back and brought her ass close to the glass, lifting her legs till her feet were raised, pressed between them, opening her up for him to see. He could see everything.

He pumped his penis and she massaged her folds with one hand and teased her nipple with the other. Her hips started to shift. There was a sound, as she rubbed herself into sighs, her folds became wet and the sound of her touching herself became increasingly wet and rhythmic.

When she slipped her finger into her vagina, she could feel the slick tongue of her heat swell and pulse with need. Out and in, out and in. Head back, moaning, she held the sight of Homer in her mind as she fucked herself, faster and faster, pushing now two fingers into her heat, over and over, until she was gushing.

She cried out as her orgasm clenched and released, but she did not yet feel satisfied. Wet and slick, she rubbed her hand over the exterior of her folds. She felt open, like she could swallow the universe. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. She was stitched up, tight, rubbing furiously, trying, trying to find release, trying to find some sense of connection. And that’s when she heard his voice, “Good girl, that’s a good girl. God, I’m so lucky. Oh God---Oh God--Oh GOD.”

Then they came. His cum spraying on the wall between them, hers soaking her thighs. She moaned as she came down off the high, shifted to lay on the bed lengthwise, and looked at him, aglow with sex. 

He felt powerful. Protective. At peace. He lay down next to her, and smiled, face earnest in response to her affectionate smile.

“I would kiss you,” he said. “Soft, light, lingering on your perfect lips. Then I would pull the blanket up over us and hold you until you fell asleep, smelling the mixture of sweetness and sweat on your skin. I would smell me on you. And I would be so happy. And I would fall asleep.”


End file.
